


Asphodelus

by femmelesbian



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmelesbian/pseuds/femmelesbian
Summary: Asphodelus- My regrets follow you to the grave.Eric can easily carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he never planned on having to do it alone.(AU where Eric collects all 1000 souls)





	Asphodelus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eriicaceae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eriicaceae/gifts).



One thousand souls.

He's done it.

After half a year of his life totally dedicated to this, he's  _done_ it.

He doesn't really know what to do with himself to begin with- the cause he's dedicated himself to for the past six months is  _over_.

It's a little anti-climactic, really- he's just stood in a grim, grey sleet, dead body at his feet, his fingers growing numb. He's not sure what he was expecting exactly, but not this.

In fact, he has no idea what he was expecting from any of this.

He ruminates a moment, and goes home- where else  _to_ go? He's  _done_ it, he wants-  _needs-_ to see the result of what he's been working for all this time.

He enters the front door, and the first thing he hears is coughing.

Alan had taken a turn for the worse during the winter- to any other person, it would have been nothing more than a flu, but Alan was-  _is_ \- very, very sick. The thorns already had such a dire impact on his health, anything else on top of that would be catastrophic.

Eric sits on the edge of the bed, hand in Alan's hair, "Everything okay?"

"Nothing that's done me in yet," Alan jokes halfheartedly. He's stopped trying to hide the bloody tissues in the bin, "I'm sick but kicking."

Well, this is just how it begins, Eric assures himself. It must be a gradual process, or maybe it just takes a couple of days for it to work. It  _will_ work, he's convinced. Even if it's just a fairytale, it has to come from  _somewhere_. There must be some truth in it.

"Would you make me some tea?" Alan asks, voice raw and wavering.

"Doctor says water only, I'm afraid." Eric replies, and makes the mistake of looking into Alan's eyes- they may be sunken, sleepy and darker than Eric's ever seen, but he still has that slight coy, boyish look about him that has Eric completely at his command.

"Just this once," Eric gives in, kissing his cheek as Alan gives a triumphant grin, "And just because it's you."

"I love you," Alan calls weakly as Eric walks downstairs, "And make the lemon one, please..."

It's fine. This will be over soon.

~*~

A week later, nothing has changed.

It's fine. He's basically bringing Alan back from the brink of death, it's bound to take time, he tells himself, lighting yet another cigarette, brow furrowed.

This will all be fine.

Just as he's about to pour himself a glass of whiskey- and by god, he could use it- someone's at the door. Eric contemplates for a moment whether or not to let them in- they're probably here for Alan, who's sleeping, and Eric dare not disturb him. He has no idea what could happen at any time now, and all he can really hope for is for Alan to make a normal, gentle recovery. Something easily explained. Something that's a miracle, but not miraculous enough to warrant explanation.

They knock again, and they sound desperate.

Eric answers the door.

"Ronald?"

"Yeah, um..." He hates seeing Ronald at a loss for words. He's holding a cardboard box, and Eric knows damn well what's in it, "We cleared out Alan's desk for him today, I thought I'd bring his stuff over- I don't know that he'd want all of this, but..."

Eric takes the box, "Come inside."

Ronald doesn't have to be told twice, "Oh,  _Christ_ , Eric..."

Eric looks around him with a fresh pair of eyes, and he finally sees the state he's been living in- dirty dishes cluttering the living room. Empty bottles on the kitchen counters. Curtains closed since God knows when. The whole house is thick with cigarette smoke.

Ronald pauses for a moment, and sets the box on the coffee table.

"Tell you one thing," He says eventually, opening a window, "You're  _damn_ lucky it was me that came and not Spears."

Eric gives a weak smile as Ronald starts stacking up plates to take to the sink, "I know."

"Come  _on_ then, I'm not doing this for you," Ronald teases, trying to just be  _normal_. He looks at the flowers on the windowsill, and tries not to falter a little, "Start by watering the flowers, it'll upset Al to see them wilting."

It's more than just the flowers that would upset him, and both of them know that.

It's weird- almost uncomfortable- to see Ronald taking charge like this. For god's sake, he's  _Ronald_ \- never takes on more than he needs to, always done as soon as he can be, and would  _never_ spend more time and energy on something than was absolutely necessary.

Love does strange things to people, it would seem.

Eric finishes watering the plants at the sink, and gathers up the empty bottles- Ronald being here brought things into perspective, and beyond that, he's right about Alan. It's not just the flowers.

Ronald stands in the kitchen doorway, stern, holding the ashtray, "Come  _on,_ Eric." He says harshly, throwing the contents into the bin, "You said you were  _quitting_."

Eric doesn't reply, more for Ronald's sake than his. He's clearly trying  _so_ hard to be a strong, driving force, and whether Ronald realises it or not, that's  _definitely_ Alan speaking, and he really doesn't want to test how long he can keep it up.

He looks at Ronald, suddenly very focused on on emptying the ashtray on the bin so Eric can't see his face.

He wants to tell him it's going to be okay- it almost feels like he's obliged to, he's never seen Ronald cry. But at the same time, it seems like it's just another burden for him to carry, and that's the last thing he wants for Ronald.

"Ronald?" Eric asks softly, not entirely sure what he's trying to achieve.

"I'm fine," He says, a little raspy, somehow knowing exactly what Eric's asking without him having to say, "It's just...  _Fuck-_ " His voice gets caught in his throat again.

"I know," Eric mumbles, and pauses for a moment, "Drink?"

Ronald swallows, "Go on, then."

Eric pours out two glasses of whiskey, handing Ronald his, "You'll be alright, Ronnie..."

Ronald knocks back his glass and stares at nothing for a few moments, thinking, "Is Alan asleep? He'll probably want his stuff-"

"Yeah-"

"I'll be going, then, you can give it to him later..."

"Don't be ridiculous, he'll want to see you." Eric insists, taking his and Ronald's glasses to the sink, "Just don't tell him you've been drinking."

Ronald gives a weak laugh that sounds dangerously close to sobbing, and Eric bites his lip at the sink.

He  _can't_ tell him, and that's a fact, but he can't just sit and watch Ronald at his worst without doing anything, either.

Ronald acts for the both of them, hugging Eric from behind, "Chin up, Slingby," He says, voice muffled against Eric's shoulder, "It'll be alright..."

He knows Ronald's saying it for himself more than him, even if Ronald himself doesn't.

Eric  _knows_ everything's going to be okay.

It  _has_ to be.

~*~

Alan grows to be a very different kind of complacent in the next few days.

He's been complacent for the past month or so, and Eric hated it even then- Eric has known Alan longer than a lifetime, and he knows  _exactly_ what Alan is- he's spirited, argumentative, a  _fighter_. He's  _anything_ but complacent.

But at least to begin with, it was lighthearted, optimistic- an 'it is what it is', 'make the most of living while I can' kind of complacency. It was at least something that  _vaguely_ suited him.

But suddenly in the past few days, he appears to have completely given up on even trying to stay positive.

"You want anything, Al?"

Alan makes some indistinct, non-committal noise in bed, facing the wall.

Eric sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed, "Doctor says you need to be sitting up."

"The doctor also says I'm dying, so it doesn't make much difference either way."

Well,  _that's_ Alan through and through, at least.

" _Stop_ it."

Alan doesn't say anything.

"What good is this doing you, hm?" Eric continues, after a short pause, "You're not doing yourself any favours like this, you know."

What he  _means_ is that he's still clinging to the hope that this is still going to work, and he  _can't_ lose that to Alan having a complete disregard for his own wellbeing.

He can't lose  _Alan_ , really- that's all there is to it.

Alan stays silent, contemplating, and Eric looks at the floor, biting his lip.

It's  _going_ to work. He doesn't know how or when, but it  _will_.

Alan's going to get better.

Alan's going to make a full recovery.

Alan's going to be just as happy and full of life as he used to be.

Alan's going to  _live._

Eric feels his arms around him suddenly, Alan's head against his back, "You'll be okay, my darling."

 _You'll_ be alright. Not  _we'll_ be alright,  _I'll_ be alright-  _you'll_ be alright.

To be perfectly honest, that's the last thing Eric wants to hear. He  _knows_ he'll be alright.

"Tell me what's wrong, Eric." It almost sounds like he's begging , and he's almost certain he hears Alan's voice crack a tiny bit.

He  _can't_ tell him. He's not brave enough to do that. He did this out of selfishness, and he's ready to except that, and he's not going to pretend that he's brave enough to face the consequences of it.

"I'm scared." He chokes out eventually, and at least he's not lying.

"I know," Alan says, attempting to soothe him, but his voice is much to raw and broken. He takes Eric's hand, tracing circles with his thumb, "Let's be scared together..."

They stay in silence for god knows how long, but it's a very different kind of silence from before- still with the same crushing weight, but somehow comforting.

"I love you so much." Eric says eventually, a hand going to Alan's hair.

"I love you too," Alan whispers, "I need to sleep."

Eric presses a kiss to his forehead, "Sleep well, love."

"Will do."

~*~

"Good to see you back!"

Eric gives a weak grin, "You too, Knox."

Ronald will not mention the dark circles under his eyes, his pale skin, or the weight loss. Nobody has yet, and he knows Ronald well enough to know that he's far too smart and sympathetic to do so.

"What's it been, a month? We missed you around here!" He quietens down a little as Eric sits down, "How are you... Doing?"

"As well as I can," Eric says, trying not to dwell on the fact that Alan is, in fact, dead, and he's doing absolutely awful, "What's been happening here?"

Ronald wrinkles his nose, thinking a moment, "Few new trainers, I suppose," He says, "Sutcliff got fired." He tacks on at the end, as though it's of no real significance.

" _What?_ "

"Yeah, it was a huge thing," Ronald continues, skimming some paperwork, "All those missing souls- something to do with her and some human woman, she was working with her or something... I'm surprised you didn't hear about it, really- though Spears kept it a bit quiet..."

Eric feels like he's just had a punch to the gut, " _All_ of them? That can't have  _just_  been her." He hates how good he's gotten at lying.

Ronald shuffles a little closer to Eric, speaking in hushed tones, "See, according to Ollie, that's what Spears said in the courts-"

"How would Oliver know?"

"What  _doesn't_ he know? Anyway, they were all set to lock her up, and they probably would have if Spears hadn't said anything..."

"Fucking hell..."

Ronald nods grimly, "Can't really say I'm surprised though, if I'm being honest- still..."

Eric bites his lip, sighing.

He really can't have  _anything_.

He can't just ruin his  _own_ life, he just  _has_ to drag down someone else with him.

If Alan would have been upset with him before, he would have been absolutely  _livid_ now.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ronald asks, frowning, "It's okay if your not, no one's expecting you to be..."

"It's fine, don't worry," Eric lies again, "It's just..."

"Yeah, I know..." he does  _not_ know, "You'll be alright..."

Eric isn't as convinced as he was last month.


End file.
